The Unsolvable Case
by Peach-Fox
Summary: A mystery arises that requires the unique skills of three very special teams. SuperWhoLock.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Assemble

"He's always so dramatic," a tall, dark haired man mumbled through a slender pale hand. He was sitting, ruefully curled up, on a small couch in a large, handsome room. The blond man beside him smiled.

"So glad you're above all that."

A tall wooden door behind the large desk in the room opened quietly. Another man, dressed in a sharp suit and carrying an umbrella, entered.

"Mycroft, I abhor being escorted from my own home by your lackeys." Sherlock spat at his brother.

"I know of no other more effective technique."

Mycroft offered a pinched smile as he took a seat.

"I need you and John," he said. John noticed Sherlock's demeanor change slightly at this statement. The only reason Sherlock ever helped Mycroft was to stroke his own ego. Mycroft was well aware of this, and was practiced at playing off of it.

"We have more guests arriving. I'll brief you when we have everyone."

Sherlock scowled.

"Who else could you possibly need?"

Mycroft brushed away the arrogance of his brother's comment with a raised eyebrow.

"Experts," he said.

John and Sherlock were sitting on the small couch, quietly drinking tea, when a strange sound filled the room. It was electric: a million tiny cogs turning as rapidly as possible, cranking out static that filled every atom. John and Sherlock turned around in their seats to witness a blue police box materialize in the middle of the room.

John gaped. Sherlock's eyebrows shot up.

The blue door opened, and a gangly man in a brown pin-striped suit staggered out. He readjusted the rectangular glasses beneath his mass of disheveled brown hair, and turned to peer back into the box.

"Coming, then?"

A short blond girl popped out of the box, smiling hugely.

"Right!"

Mycroft had returned to the room with a tray laden with tea cups, and was looking exasperatedly at the pair before him.

"Really, in the office again?" he said.

"Parking is hard to find outside Buckingham palace," The Doctor said, giving Rose a wink. She grinned at him.

"Well, have a seat and some tea," Mycroft said, frowning as he eyed the discolored carpet around the Tardis.

"Ah, tea! No-one makes tea like the British, eh?" The Doctor rubbed his hands together as he took a seat on another couch.

"What about that one planet, Doctor?" Rose asked, sitting beside him. "Um, oh you know, Florana."

"They did have good tea, didn't they?" The Doctor said, wide-eyed. "Alright then, no-one makes tea like the British or the Floranians, eh?"

Rose laughed and leaned affectionately against The Doctor. Sherlock hunched forward to set his tea cup on the small table.

"We meet again, Doctor. You have a new face."

The Doctor shrugged.

"Well, you know, after you swallow the Time Vortex, it's usually time for a change. Actually, it was this one, here, that did it. Can't take her anywhere."

Rose's eyebrow perked up.

"Sorry, can we go back a bit? A police-box just materialized." John said.

"The Doctor is a 900 year old extraterrestrial being that travels the space-time continuum in a blue phone box."

Sherlock explained this in his _really John, __**do**__ keep up_ tone. John, bug-eyed, poured another cup of tea for himself. He wondered if Mycroft had any brandy to add.

"And your name is The Doctor? Doctor who?" John came out of his daze momentarily to address this, the most pertinent issue.

The Doctor smiled over his tea.

"That's right."

Suddenly, the door leading to the hall and the rest of the palace flew open, and a man with short brown hair and big eyes entered the room. Another man, with longer hair and a more subdued air followed.

"What's up, England?" the first one said, spreading his arms and smiling.

"Oh, Mycroft, you brought the _American_?" Sherlock whined, turning to his brother with a look of disgust.

"And England's most famous couple." Dean said, winking.

"We are _not_ a couple." John announced, almost automatically.

"I think that he meant Rose and The Doctor." Sam said, eyes narrowing.

"Oh…"

"Please, have a seat, Winchesters," Mycroft offered. "Something to drink?"

"Anything alcoholic. Still trying to shake off that flight. You know, I would take a fight with a demon over a plane ride any day," Dean said, striding to the last of the couches and flopping onto it with a sigh. Sam sat beside him.

"Coffee for me, thanks," he said.

Mycroft nodded and sent something from his phone.

"The Winchesters!" The Doctor cried, smiling. "Been a while, eh, boys?"

"Too long, Doc," Dean said.

"We never seem to find the time to drop by America," Rose said. "Spent a lot of time on Mars lately, though."

Sherlock had resumed his curled up position, and was looking disdainfully over at Dean. John prodded him.

"Sherlock, who are they? What in the world is going on?"

"Got a new friend, Sherly?" Dean asked, grinning. Sherlock glared.

"Please don't speak, Dean, you lower the IQ of the entire block."

Sam offered his hand, cutting off his brother's (surely unkind) retort.

"Sherlock, my name is Sam Winchester, I'm Dean's brother."

Sherlock shook his hand.

"I've heard of you, Sam. I had the…_task_ of acquainting myself with your brother several years ago here in London."

"I've heard about that case," Sam said, smiling. "There was a chancellor's ghost?"

"That would surely be your brother's explanation," Sherlock said haughtily. Sam pursed his lips.

"Dear brother, please refrain from alienating our guests at least until we've finished tea," Mycroft said, taking a seat at his desk and clasping his hands to rest under his chin.

"Thank you for coming, everyone. I have a, well, a case, I suppose, that requires each of your unique specialties. Truthfully, I only need The Doctor, Sherlock and Dean. The rest of you are free to leave."

"I don't work without my partner," came from the three men simultaneously, earning each of them an affectionate look from said partner. Mycroft's brow crinkled.

"As I expected. Very well. To all six of you, then, this case is of top priority and secrecy. Code red, decreed by the UN, if that gives you an idea of how significant it is. America wanted to send over representative to aid in the situation, and we have dealt with the Winchester family before, so we thought them an appropriate choice. Their unique knowledge should prove useful, regardless."

Sam and Dean were looking at each other, trying to decide exactly how they felt about having been "dealt with" before. Their drinks arrived and they soon forgot the thought.

"Sorry, what situation?" John cut in. He seemed to have recovered from the appearance of the Tardis, and was now looking at Mycroft with that glint in his eye that always preceded deep thought. Sherlock smiled with one corner of his mouth.

"An item of national importance has gone missing, and we highly suspect unusual activities to be the cause of its disappearance."

"Of what's disappearance?" Rose asked. Mycroft eyed her coldly.

"Patience. It is extremely difficult to categorize the precise nature of our thief, but it is indisputably of some non-human design. We hope to pair my brother's talents of deduction with Mr. Winchester's and The Doctor's knowledge. You will all, of course, be paid handsomely upon the retrieval of this item."

Rose opened her mouth to ask her previous question.

"The item," Mycroft continued loudly, "is a small memory stick containing exceptionally detailed international defense plans. I cannot stress the importance of the retrieval of this device. In the wrong hands this information could prove catastrophic."

"And how do you know that these 'hands' are non-human?" the Doctor asked, thoughtfully tapping his sonic screwdriver against his thigh.

"Security cameras," Mycroft replied.

"Obviously effective," Sherlock scoffed. His brother narrowed his eyes.

"What did you catch on tape?" Sam asked, leaning around his brother to face Mycroft.

"That's the thing, Mr. Winchester, we caught nothing. A sweep of the area revealed unusually high levels of gamma radiation and nothing else. No fingerprints, no dust, absolutely nothing. The memory stick simply vanished."

"And now we have to fetch it for you," Sherlock sighed, "Mycroft, you constantly lower my confidence in the British government."

"Have I piqued your interest?" Mycroft asked, ignoring his brother to regard Dean and The Doctor. "Do I have your help?"

Dean looked at Sam, who nodded.

"First honest job we'll probably ever do," Dean said, grinning. "Count us in."

The Doctor and Rose looked at one another briefly.

"Well, I suppose Mars has been getting a bit dull lately," the Doctor said. Rose giggled.

Mycroft's eyes fell on Sherlock.

"Well?"

Sherlock was not particularly interested in this case. It wasn't exactly his area of expertise, and he certainly didn't want Mycroft to think he was doing him any favors. Sherlock was, however, achingly fascinated by the Doctor, and had had little time to properly analyze the time lord, who always seemed to vanish as soon as he appeared.

"Fine," he said, glancing fleetingly at John, who offered a curt nod.

"Brilliant," Mycroft said, relief filling his voice, "I would like to take you to the safe where the memory stick disappeared from-"

Mycroft stopped mid-sentence when the sleek, dark phone on his desk began to buzz. Mycroft inspected it for a moment before standing from his desk.

"Apologies, I must take this. Entertain yourselves in the least destructive way possible, I won't be long."

"My dear Barrack," Mycroft could be heard saying as he swept out of the room. John slumped back against the couch.

"Alright, Sherlock, I agree."

Sherlock looked at him inquisitively.

"Mycroft is one for the dramatics."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Incentive

Surprisingly, it was Sherlock and John that arrived first. Sam and Dean came shortly after, in the separate car Sherlock had insisted they take. Rose and the Doctor arrived last, managing to land the Tardis right inside the room where the memory stick had disappeared from. It made the space rather cramped.

The room itself was nothing special. It was small, with thick metallic walls, ceiling, and floor. There was a single door that led into the room, which had innumerable security devices. It was virtually a walk-in safe that had somehow managed to get robbed without being opened.

Sherlock was investigating the corners of the room while John trailed somewhat aimlessly behind him. Dean and Sam were standing in the middle of the room, looking clueless, beside the metallic stand that had once held the memory stick. Rose and The Doctor lounged in the doorway near Mycroft.

Sherlock glanced back through the doorway at his brother with an irritated look.

"John, there is nothing in this room to go off of," he said quietly. "I don't think that this is our sort of case. Stay here, I'm having a word with Mycroft."

Sherlock swept out of the room and over to Mycroft's side. The Doctor followed him curiously, while Rose went the other direction to explore the safe. She wandered over to the stand where Dean and Sam stood. Sam gave her a shy smile, while Dean watched his brother with raised eyebrows. He patted Sam roughly on the back.

"Sit tight, Sammy, I'm gonna see if I can get some coffee."

Dean left the room, rolling his eyes and muttering something close to "the crap I go through to get that kid to talk to girls."

He joined a disgruntled Sherlock and a bemused Doctor beside Mycroft.

"Mycroft, I don't know what you expect me to do here," Sherlock was saying.

"Do I hear the great Sherlock Holmes giving up?" teased Dean. Sherlock shot him a violent look.

"Do you have any footage from security cameras?" asked the Doctor suddenly. "If this is something extraterrestrial, a camera might have picked up traces."

Mycroft nodded.

"John!" Sherlock called back to the safe. After several seconds without a response, Sherlock rolled his eyes and sauntered back to the metallic door.

"John?"

Dean and The Doctor trotted over to join Sherlock in the doorway. The safe was empty. There was only the stand and the metal walls and no sign of the three individuals that had been there only seconds ago.

"Rose? Rose! And my Tardis! Literally, the only two things I have!"

"Sammy!"

Sherlock, Dean and The Doctor stood in the safe, looking futilely around the room for their respective partners. Mycroft entered the safe behind them, and regarded the assembled men.

"Problem?"

The three men turned at him simultaneously, each receiving him with a furious expression.

"Let's see that video, then," said The Doctor, frowning.

Several moments later found the assembly of men crowded into a small security office, watching the tape that had been made only moments before. According to the tape, after Sherlock, The Doctor and Dean had left the room, the other three had stood there idly for a short time, Sam talking quietly to Rose, and John examining the corners of the room. A frame later, they were gone, along with the Tardis. Simply vanished. Sherlock sat near the screen and replayed the tape several times, squinting his eyes. The Doctor was frowning and fiddling with his sonic screwdriver, and Dean was glaring at a wall as he tried reaching his brother's cell for the third time.

"I don't know, man, when I try to call Sam it goes straight to voicemail. And he always has his phone on."

"I'm not picking up any abnormal frequencies in the area," The Doctor muttered, waving his screwdriver around. "I don't know what short of a frequency would transport three adults and my ship that suddenly."

"This makes no sense. There is nothing logical about this," Sherlock complained from his seat, still glaring at the screen.

Mycroft stood as far away from the men as possible, regarding them each thoughtfully.

"Well, I suppose that you will just have a few things beside the memory stick to retrieve," he said finally, smiling. He was rewarded with another collection of murderous gazes.

Sherlock pinched the bridge of his nose. He had really been hoping that he and John could stay only long enough for Sherlock to get a little more of a chance to observed The Doctor. Then, they would have left and gotten on with a proper case that Sherlock could actually enjoy. It wasn't working out quite as he had planned. Regardless of how disgustingly smug it would make Mycroft, Sherlock had no choice but to take the case now.

John rolled onto his side, gasping. He felt as though someone had reached through his chest and punched him directly in the heart.

John heard coughing beside him, and glanced over to see one of the American boys having a similar reaction, grimacing and clutching at his chest.

"Winchester, are you alright?" he asked, taking several deep breaths before hefting himself onto his heels.

"Ah, I think so," Sam said.

John looked to his other side and found Rose beside him, sitting on her knees, frowning and patting her chest.

"How about you, Rose?"

She nodded in response, smiling at John despite her discomfort.

"I'm okay."

John stood and pulled his gun from the back of his pants. Sam was at Rose's side, helping her to her feet and looking at her with concern.

"Come on, kids, let's see where we are," John said. Sam withdrew his own gun from somewhere within his jacket, and held it out readily.

It was fairly dark, wherever the three had ended up. There was light coming from somewhere. The floor, perhaps?

John had no awareness of walls surrounding them. It felt as though the darkness stretched out indefinitely in all directions, although John also had the feeling that they were inside something rather than outdoors.

"Where the hell are we?" Sam asked suddenly, voicing everyone's primary thought, though perhaps less eloquently then they might have hoped.

"Not really sure," John muttered. "Inside something? Underground, maybe."

"We could be on a ship," Rose said, "That might have been some sort of transporter beam. Wouldn't be the first time something like this has happened."

Rose sighed.

Sam fished around in his jacket until he found a flashlight, which he handed to Rose. She clicked it on and flashed the beam around the darkened space. No walls could be discerned in any direction, although they could see the ceiling about ten feet up. Large wooden crates littered the ground in every direction. John trotted over to the nearest and pried it open, finding a total sum of nothing within. He pursed his lips.

John turned back toward the other two, looking thoughtful.

"Do either of you have any ideas?"

Sam and Rose simultaneously shook their heads.

Eyes suddenly brightening, Rose pulled out her cell phone and dialed a number. Sam saw her idea, and did the same.

"It's not working…" Rose said, frowning.

Sam shook his head in agreement.

"That's really strange, though, The Doctor programed this phone for me himself. It's supposed to work on all sorts of planets in time and space."

Rose held her phone up toward the ceiling and waved it around. John regarded her incredulously.

"Are you trying to find a signal?"

"Trying, not succeeding," Rose frowned.

Suddenly, a loud sound like metal and growling reverberated through the room. Sam and Rose backed against each other, looking scared. John blinked several times.

"Brilliant. Okay you two, come on, stay close."

John waved his gun at Sam and Rose, looking stern.

"We're going to see what we can find down here. Stay behind me."

John led the way through the darkness, following the ground illuminated by the flashlight. Rose and Sam trotted behind him.

"What's going on, Doctor Watson?" Sam asked.

"Ah, call me John, to start with. And honestly, I have absolutely no idea. This is really more up your alley than it is mine. Sherlock and I deal with normal things; murders, crime syndicates, things with people. This is pretty new to me."

John frowned when he thought of Sherlock. The man was probably out of his mind with the illogic of this situation. He knew that if anyone was going to be able to find them, though, it would be the detective.

Rose walked close beside John, holding the flashlight steadily. She was a little confused with the situation, but she wasn't scared. Not really. Rose knew that The Doctor would come and rescue them all soon. He always did. Rose smiled. The Doctor would come flying in with his Tardis anytime, throw open the blue door and say her name and pull her into a hug. She just had to wait.

Sam sighed and glanced over at Rose, wondering what she was thinking about. He was still irritated with Dean for trying to play matchmaker earlier, although Dean had correctly read Sam's attraction to Rose. Dean would probably be in quite a state right now. This sort of thing was unusual, even for them. Sam knew that Dean wouldn't stop looking for him until they were back together again.

_He'll come_, all three agreed silently.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: A Change of Scenery

Mycroft was in a cheerful mood. He was sure that the disappearance was exactly the nudge that his detectives needed.

The party had moved to an office within the building. Mycroft was sitting at a desk, quietly leafing through a stack of papers. The Doctor was sitting at a nearby table, holding a full cup of rapidly cooling tea, and disdainfully watching Dean methodically clean one of his smaller guns, frowning determinedly down at his hands. Sherlock lay on a couch; eyes closed tightly, hands clasped beneath his chin. Suddenly, Dean slammed the gun pieces on the table and stood from his chair, knocking it over.

"Fuck, are we just going to sit here and drink tea and just wait for everyone to come back? We should be doing something right now! Looking for them, or _something_!"

Sherlock glared back at Dean from his position on the couch. The Doctor took off his glasses to rub tiredly at his century-old eyes.

"We're going to do something, Dean, but first we need to think. We have virtually nothing to go off of. I can't locate Rose or the Tardis with my sonic, which I usually have no problem doing. Whatever technology we're dealing with, I don't recognize right now."

"We are going to get them back, though," Dean demanded, although there was a hint of panic in his voice.

"Of course we are," The Doctor replied, smiling.

"They could be dead, for all we know," Sherlock said casually from his couch.

"You shut up!" ordered Dean furiously.

Sherlock shrugged. There was concern hidden in his passé turquoise eyes, though only Mycroft knew the detective well enough to read it there, and he had better things to do.

Mycroft knocked the papers against his desk to align them, and regarded the company warily.

"Gentlemen, I can arrange transportation, if that will be necessary for your investigation."

It was a thinly veiled request for their departure.

Dean suddenly spun around, eyes bright, completely missing Mycroft's hint.

"Transportation, that's it! We just go sit in the room for a few minutes, and whatever took Sam should spit us out wherever he is!"

Sherlock glanced back at The Doctor, who shrugged.

"Can't think of any better ideas," he agreed.

Dean raced down the hall, quickly became lost, and had to return to the office to be directed to the safe room. Once there, he stood, triumphantly, beside the glass case. He waited for several moments for Sherlock and The Doctor to appear, but gave up after a while. Sherlock had managed to bring the security camera from the safe up on a screen in the office. He was sprawling on the couch beside The Doctor, observing Dean. Several minutes passed. Ten minutes. Half an hour. Dean had been getting more and more restless from his position in the safe. Finally, Dean looked down at his watch and yelled something (likely obscene, but muted by the security camera) and stormed out of the room. Several minutes later he arrived back in the office, tangible waves of rage rolling off him.

"Why didn't you guys come?" he yelled.

"We learned quite enough watching you," Sherlock smirked. Dean sat violently down in a chair.

"Well, what the hell have you two come up with?" Dean snarled. The Doctor leapt to his feet, eyes suddenly bright, smiling hugely.

"Torchwood! We can sneak in and steal some of their stolen alien technology. I have an idea on something to make to track down the TARDIS. What century is it? Jack should probably still be around. Come on!"

The Doctor flew from the room, and was gone for several moments before returning, wild-eyed.

"I can't drive!" he declared.

"I can," Dean said, grinning.

"I'd rather you didn't," Sherlock said, standing from his couch. He frowned at his brother, who was smiling smugly.

"Mycroft, ready a car. We're leaving."

"Shh! Listen, that was it again!" Rose had halted the group, and was peering into the surrounding darkness, listening intently.

"What did it-" Sam began in a whisper.

"Shh!" Rose hissed.

John cocked his gun and pointed it in the direction that Rose was listening. God only knew what sort of things were down in this damp, darkened…place. John was hoping not to have to shoot anything, but he wouldn't hesitate if the necessity arose. For the first time since Rose had mentioned "the noise," John heard a sort of snorting, gurgling sound coming faintly from somewhere off to the right.

"That!" Rose cried, triumphantly. She began trotting off in the direction of the sound, with John and Sam close in tow.

"Hey, be careful, we don't know what's down here!" Sam reminded her.

Rose had stopped a few feet from what John was pleased to see was a wall. He'd been starting to think that the space went on indefinitely down here. Quickly after noticing the wall, John noticed the creature cowering at the base of it. He instinctively trained his gun on the thing, hearing Sam do the same beside him.

"Hey, put those things down!" Rose said crossly. "Look how little it is! Are you really going to shoot such a poor little thing?"

"Depends," Sam said, narrowing his eyes, "On what it is."

The creature was about the size of a cat, dark and furless with at least six legs. Possibly more. It had a tail that curled into a spiral at the base of its back, and comically large pointed ears. When it looked up at the assembly before it, there was fear in its four huge, red, protruding eyes. It had a tiny muzzle, but it looked like its mouth could open a great deal, and glints of small sharp teeth peeked around its lips.

Rose knelt down, to the consternation of her companions.

"Rose, that thing might be dangerous!" John hissed. Sam nodded, brow knit.

"Oh, hush, it's just scared."

She extended a hand to the little, shivering creature.

"Come here. It's okay, I won't hurt you. Are you cold? I'll give you my coat!"

Something registered in the red eyes, and the little nose snuffled hopefully. Slowly, tail wagging warily, the animal approached Rose and sniffed her hand. It began licking her with a spiky black tongue, and Rose removed her jacket and wrapped it around the creature.

"There!" she said, smiling and standing up with creature. She could feel it wiggling gleefully as it attempted to lick her face. Rose laughed. The boys lowered their guns.

John walked over to the wall and ran a hand over it. The material seemed a lot like concrete to him. Wet, mildew-y concrete.

"Why don't we follow this wall and see where we end up?" John suggested. Rose and Sam nodded. He took the torch from Rose, whose arms where now full, and began walking along the wall.

"Is that thing heavy, Rose?" Sam asked, "I can carry it for you."

"Oh, I don't think it would like that, with you trying to kill it and all," Rose said, lowering her eyebrows slightly. Her tone was reprimanding. Sam frowned.

"You can never be too careful," he said.

Rose laughed.

"I'm never careful! You think I would be traveling with The Doctor if I was?"

"Why are you traveling with him?" Sam asked. "You could have such a simple life."

Rose glanced back at him, surprise in her eyes.

"Well, that's why, of course," she said. "I don't want a simple life. Why would I sit in a flat in the middle of London all my life when there are a thousand universes and a million life forms to meet? That would be so…"

"Boring," John supplied with half a smile. He was starting to like the young lady. He could certainly relate to her. John shone the torch along the wall as far as it would go, and saw no change in the path before them. He heaved a sigh.

"I mean, yeah, it's great if you can choose that life," Sam persisted. "An adventurous life over a mundane one. But if you grow up with no choice, then you start resenting the lifestyle you were forced into. Believe me."

John raised his eyebrows. This Winchester boy seemed to have quite a lot of feelings. Rose cleared her throat.

"What exactly is it that you do, Sam?" she asked.

"I fight monsters," Sam said simply.

"Oh," Rose said. She was quiet for a few moments.

"Why?"

Sam stared blankly at her.

"Well, because someone has to, I guess. And… you know, that's just what Dean and I do."

John was half listening to the conversation behind him when he noticed something strange on the wall up ahead. It was a change in the consistency of the material. As he got closer, John realized that it was a small, square wooden door built into the concrete wall. He saw light peeking out through the bottom crack. He turned to Sam and Rose, who were somewhere in the discussion of what constituted as a monster, and placed a finger on his lips. They silenced immediately. The three crowded around the door, which wasn't even tall enough to reach Rose's shoulder, and John poised a hand before the brass knob. Before he could even touch the handle, though, the door creaked open and a high, age-cracked voice said, "Come in."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Sitting

Dean was not happy. It was a rare occasion that Dean let his own brother drive, and that was only when he felt the need for an extreme expression of brotherly love. And now, he was sitting in the back of a car, being driven on the wrong side of the road by detective Fancy-Pants, listening to British news and missing his younger brother.

The Doctor turned the volume up slightly on the radio, and looked pensive as he listened to newscaster describe escalating military disputes.

"You people never stop, do you?" The Doctor said, shaking his head. Sherlock glanced over at him.

"Please don't categorize me with the general public," he said.

Dean sighed and flopped over dramatically in the back seat.

"Can we listen to some _music_?" he whined. "Do you Brits even have music?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Stop talking, Dean," he ordered.

The Doctor gave the detective a reproachful look. Sherlock sighed heavily.

"Don't you have an iPod or something?" he asked.

"So I look like a douche?" Dean replied haughtily, Sherlock smiled but said nothing. The Doctor rolled his eyes. Dean pressed his face against the car window and peered frowningly out into the city of London.

"He'll be fine, Dean," The Doctor said softly, from the front seat. "They all will."

"You seem to be rather sure of yourself," Sherlock mused.

"I've got to be," The Doctor replied quietly. Dean glanced at him with irritation in his green eyes. All these feelings were going to make him sick.

"Hey, my brother has the hots for your companion," he told The Doctor suddenly. The Doctor tilted his head back to regard Dean's smiling face.

"Quite right, too. I'd say that the vast majority of people Rose and I meet end up fancying at least one of us. Often times her."

"Do you?" Dean asked. The Doctor and Rose's relationship had been quite a hard one to read, and he was genuinely curious.

"Do I what?" The Doctor asked, frowning.

"'Fancy' Rose?"

The Doctor turned in his seat so that he was facing his window, not looking at Dean or Sherlock. The detective glanced periodically over from the windshield, mildly interested in the conversation taking place. The Doctor suddenly turned back toward Dean, a huge smile on his face. It was a dramatic change from the almost pained expression he had worn only a few seconds ago.

"Well, she's my companion, isn't she? Don't know what I'd do without her! So when we get to Torchwood I'm going to need your help with a few things, gentlemen. I don't know if Captain Jack is there right now. We'll probably have to sneak into the establishment, though. I also don't remember the building layout this era, so it might be a bit tricky."

"Shouldn't be a problem," Dean grinned. He was well practiced in breaking into unfamiliar buildings.

Sherlock gave The Doctor a long look. The detective doubted that Dean had been observant enough to catch The Doctor's avoidance of a direct answer. Such a highly developed being, this star-man, but so riddled with emotions. Sherlock had hoped that evolution would have weeded out that particular, inconvenient attribute. What was love, really, besides a selfish desire for personal happiness? Love was for the lover, not the loved. Sherlock had always made a stupendous effort to keep emotions away. The head could not function at full capacity with the heaviness of a heart to weigh it down. The detective had been doing very well, his whole life, really, keeping feelings and relationships at a safe distance that allowed his mind to dominate. He had been doing well until just a little while ago, when a certain army doctor had stumbled into his life. Sherlock knew that when he was with John, he was more prone to emotional decisions, less able to think clearly when the other man was at any sort of risk. Sherlock knew that it was dangerous, being emotionally attached to John the way he was. He knew this, but he found that he couldn't help it.

Sherlock drifted back from thought when Dean's voice cut through his cognition.

"Well an alien isn't a real werewolf," he scoffed.

"How can you be so sure that your werewolf wasn't an alien as well?" The Doctor countered.

Dean frowned, then a slow smile spread across his face.

"If that- if she was- that means that Sammy banged- Jesus Christ!"

The last part of this was a shout, and while The Doctor contemplated the likelihood of Sam Winchester hooking up with Jesus (who The Doctor had met on several occasions and was quite fond of) Dean was staring with alarm toward the suddenly occupied rear seat beside him.

"No, it's Castiel. Jesus Christ has been absent from the earth for over two-thousand-"

"It's an expression, Cas! What are you doing here?"

The Doctor and Sherlock glanced around to find a very serious looking, dark haired man in a slightly over-sized trench coat sitting beside Dean. Sherlock's eyes bugged slightly at the illogic of sudden appearance, and even The Doctor seemed slightly put off.

"I became aware of your brother's absence and came to investigate," Castiel said, eyebrows lowered in his usual expression of severity, indigestion, and mild confusion. He paused.

"Dean, is Sam-"

"He's not dead!" Dean said quickly. "He's just missing."

"I know he's not dead. We would know if he was. Your brother is gone. He's vanished off of every angel's radar and, believe me, they're keeping track. What happened?"

"I-"

Dean became suddenly aware of the stares he was getting from the front seat. He turned to look at the other passengers.

"This is Cas," Dean announced. Castiel nodded.

"I am an angel of the lord," he said helpfully.

Sherlock chuckled, eyes bulging even more. The Doctor narrowed his own eyes and looked at Castiel carefully.

"An angel, eh? Not feeling weepy, are you?"

Castiel stared blankly at him.

"I don't understand that-"

"Never mind that, Cas," Dean interrupted "Do you have any leads on where Sam is?"

The angel shook his head.

"He's not in heaven, or on Earth, or in hell from what we can tell. He's just vanished."

"Not on Earth," The Doctor repeated thoughtfully.

"Well, can't you use your angel mo-jo to find him?" Dean persisted.

Castiel shook his head again.

"It's not like he's missing, Dean. It's like he no longer exists. There's not a trace of him- neither body or soul- for as far as any of us can see."

Dean frowned.

"What would be able to do that? The Trickster?"

"Unlikely. Even he, with his unusually potent powers, wouldn't be able to actually make someone disappear. He could alter perception of reality, but he wouldn't have been able to fool the angels. I fear that something greater is at work here."

"I want your help finding him," Dean said.

"That is my assignment," confirmed Castiel. The faint sound of fluttering wings filled the car, and the angel was gone. Dean slumped back in his seat.

"If Cas can't find him, I don't know if anyone can," he said wearily.

Something glinted in Sherlock's eye, as he regained his composure and re-established his grasp on reality.

"Then you don't know much," Sherlock said.

John licked his lips and stared at the round door, trying to decide if he had imagined the voice.

"Well, come in, already!" the voice in question crackled. John glanced over his shoulder at Rose and Sam. Sam was shaking his head, and Rose was nodding. John sighed and swung open the door.

The best thing to compare the interior to would be a boiler room. Pipes lined the ceilings and walls and sprouted seemingly randomly from various places on the cement floor. The air was thick with steamy air, and water dripped from most of the connecting sections of pipe. A hammock occupied a particularly steamy corner of the room, and something that looked very much like a dog house sat underneath. There was a square table centrally located, and a large metal cupboard off to one side. Stranger, was the occupant of the room. It looked quite a lot like a three foot tall, especially humanoid lemur, with huge orange eyes, gray fur and several tails. It wore ragged blue shorts and at least five different shirts, all layered on top of one another in what seemed to be patternless. It walked on it's six-toed hind feet.

"You'll let all the steam out if you just stand in the doorway gaping like that," the creature snapped. It's voice was scratchy and high-pitched, and it wiggled it's large black nose as it spoke.

"Bartholomew! What in the worlds are you doing there?"

The creature in Rose's arms squirmed slightly, and Rose nearly dropped it in surprise when it replied in a low baritone,

"Terribly sorry, Mauve. I seemed to have, ah, miscalculated the exact route between the storage and the boiler. Needless to say, I did not manage to procure the items you requested."

"Fantastic," muttered the lemur creature, apparently Mauve. "Really, do come in! You're letting out all our lovely steam!"

John stepped hesitantly into the room, followed by Rose and Sam. Mauve slammed the door behind them and wiggled his nose again, this time in irritation. Bartholomew looked back at Rose with several bright eyes.

"My deepest gratitude for the transportation, my dear girl. You may release me now."

"Oh!" Rose hurriedly lowered the animal and unwrapped her jacket. Bartholomew waddled over to the cupboard and opened it to retrieve a small wooden box. Mauve looked at him despairingly.

"Surely you don't mean to-"

"It is a rare occasion that we have guests, Mauve," sniffed Bartholomew. "The least we can do is offer some tea."

John and Rose brightened noticeably. These were obviously the proper sort of aliens. The pug-like creature turned to the humans with what they assumed was something like a smile.

"Please have a seat," he nodded toward the table, where John noticed tiny little boxes that could conceivably be used as chairs. They took their seats. In another corner of the room, Mauve was grudgingly lighting a small gas stove and putting on a kettle. A small argument arose between him and Bartholomew about who should make the tea. Bartholomew eventually raised the very good point that he had no thumbs, and the matter rested there. Several moments later, the two creatures had joined the other three at the table, and all had a mismatched chipped cup filled with excellent tea.

"So howabouts did you get down here?" Mauve asked, curiosity finally winning out over irritation.

"That is an excellent question," John said.

"Where exactly is 'down here'?" continued Rose.

"That, also, is an excellent question," Bartholomew said, wariness stealing into his deep voice. "We're not really sure. It is most definitely a storage level of, what, I'm not sure. Some sort of star base, perhaps. Or an exceptionally large ship. Mauve has been down here longer than I have."

Rose tilted her head at the lemur creature.

"How did you get down here?" she asked.

Mauve looked sourly at the girl.

"Same way you did, I expect. Some accelerated transportation beam," the orange eyes glazed over slightly, and a pained look spread across the furry face.

"I was in my airship, The Yorkshire, she was called. I was on regular course toward Florian with a standard shipment...then I was here. Left my girl all alone, unmanned in space,"

Mauve sniffed slightly. Bartholomew gave him what the humans assumed was a sympathetic look.

"Haven't kept great track of time," Mauve continued. "But I know that I've been down here for a couple decades, easy. Bartholomew came a dozen years or so after I did."

John, Rose, and Sam dutifully turned to hear Bartholomew's tale.

"I used to be an ambassador," he told them, tail wagging slightly. "I was at a huge summon to discuss a newly invented energy generator. I had just taken a quick trot to the restroom, but suddenly appeared here instead."

"I assume you've tried to find a way out," John said hesitantly. Mauve rewarded him with a scathing look.

"No, we've been sitting here drinking tea for thirty years. There _is_ no way out. If you look hard enough you can usually find provisions in the boxes. Now it's just a game of waiting for something to happen, or to die. Whatever comes first."

Silence fell heavily on the steam filled room, until Bartholomew cleared his throat and queried,

"Anyone for more tea?"


End file.
